Only You Napoleon
by MLaw
Summary: Another uneventful afternoon for our brace U.N.C.L.E. agents. Origianlly posted for the PicFic Tuesday photo challenge on section7mfu, live journal. Pre-saga. The story cover is the prompt.


Two men, one blond and one brunette, walked into the lobby of the First National Bank; all was serene, a typical work day with Solo taking personal note of several lovely tellers behind the counter helping a few customers. One in particular, a redhead, caught his eye.

Napoleon took out his wallet, removing a check and at a nearby desk, endorsed it.

Illya, being nosy, peeked over his partner's shoulder, looking at the amount.

"If you want to know, all you have to do is ask," the American said out of the side of his mouth.

"Sorry I apologize. That was rude of me...a check from your Aunt Amy?"

"Yes, for my birthday," Napoleon smiled.

"That my friend is a substantial gift."

"What can I say, I'm her favorite nephew...and since she has no children, she does tend to be rather generous not to only me, but to my brother and sisters as well."

He stepped up to the teller, giving her a flirtatious smile along with the check and his identification.

"I swear you do not even know you are doing it," Illya whispered.

"Doing what?"

"Flirting, it is like you are on automatic. Do you ever turn it off?"

Solo chuckled at that remark, shrugging. "Hey what can I say?" He returned his attention to the pretty red-haired teller.

"Hi there, how are you?"

"I'm fine...ugh, Mr. Solo and how would you like it?"

He paused, tempted to say something with sexual innuendo, but changed his mind. "Large please…" he hesitated, looking at her name tag, "Pamela. Hmm, that's a lovely name for a lovely lady."

She blushed and seemed a little flustered as she counted out the bills, slipping them into a bank envelope. "Why thank you Mr. Solo. Well fifties and twenties do? I don't have anything larger at the moment."

"That's fine...as are you. Say, are you free for dinner?" He asked, leaning forward on the counter, "Maybe you have a friend for my buddy here and we can double date?"

"Napoleon please, no thank you," Illya interrupted. "No offense Miss, I prefer to get my own dates."

"No offense taken Mister...and Mr. Solo, I prefer to to know a man a little before I go on a date with him."

"Hmm, well then how about coffee? We can get to know each other over lunch...it wouldn't be a date though. So when do you get a break?" He winked at her.

Illya turned to see a group of men rush in through the bank entrance, guns drawn. He went for his Special, but stopped himself, as there were too many innocents and three would-be robbers.

"EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR!" They began bellowing, brandishing their revolvers in the air.

One woman screamed and fainted, dropping to the floor.

The U.N.C.L.E. agents raised their hands, ready to comply as one of the gunmen approached Pamela, tossing a burlap bag at her.

"Fill it up with all your cash, NOW!" He barked at her. "And don't try short changing me!"

"I..I don't have anything but a hundred mostly in singles. My drawer is cashed out,"she stammered. "We'd have to get money from the vault but the bank manager isn't here, he just left for lunch and...and it's locked." She started to cry.

The gunman pointed his pistol at her head. "Well you better find more cash real quick honey or else!"

"Now hang in there a second. She just cashed my check, you can have that," Napoleon slowly withdrew the envelope from his jacket pocket and taking the money out of it, giving Illya a barely perceptible nod.

It all happened so fast. Napoleon tossed the cash at the man, sending the bills flying everywhere, distracting him for a split second, and allowing the agent to draw his Special and dart him.

Illya dove to the floor, and as he slid across the marble, pulling his own gun; he got off two shots, bringing down the other robbers with more sleep darts.

Napoleon walked over to the Russian, offering him a hand up.

"Nice shooting partner mine," he smiled.

"Nice distraction," Illya brushed off his trousers and jacket.

They both turned, facing the bank employees and customers who were giving them a round of applause.

"Mr. Solo, that was amazing! How can I thank you?" Pamela squealed.

"Have dinner with me?" He handed her his card. "Call the police and give them this when they get here."

"That's a deal," she smiled dreamily at her new hero. She stepped out from behind the counter, quickly gathering up Napoleon's cash, and handing it to him.

Napoleon got her address and made arrangements to pick her up at seven for an evening of dinner and dancing, and once that was done he and Illya left, catching a checkered cab to take them to headquarters.

As they settled in the back of the taxi, Illya crossed his arms in front of his chest; an obvious scowl on his face.

"Only you could use a bank robbery to your advantage to get a date…"

Napoleon tapped his index finger to his chin."That did work out rather well didn't it? Nothing like playing the role of a hero to win a woman's heart."

"And what was I ...the chopped chicken liver?"

"Hey you said you didn't want her to find a friend for you."

"I stand corrected. Still I wonder why I play second fiddle to you at times...I did dart two of them if you recall."

"Hey, we're like the Lone Ranger and Tonto," Napoleon laughed.

"Right kemosabe…"

The taxi pulled up in front of Del Floria's and the agents stepped out to the sidewalk, quickly making their way down the short flight of steps.

"Next time tovarisch, you'll let me fix you up and you too can play the hero in front of the girl."

"No thank you."

"Illya, you can't have it both ways. First you complain that…"

"Never mind Napoleon," Illya suddenly changed the subject, not wishing to get into an argument.

"So what are you going to do with your birthday money, surely not spend it on Pamela?"

"Nope, I think I'll order a couple of new suits, and still have enough left over for some evening festivities. Twenty-One Club…"

"That is a pricey place for a first date," Illya said, opening the door to the tailor shop, and being welcomed by the familiar ringing of the little brass bell above his head.

"Not for Pamela. I'll be taking my Aunt out to dinner," Napoleon winked," Gotta take care of my best girl."

"Dressed in your new suit no doubt."

"Well I need to show her birthday money was put to good use. It was she, after all, who taught me to always be a well-dressed man."

"Oh so it is Amy's fault you are a clotheshorse."

"Dróle, chum, trés dróle…"

"Please, no French Napoleon. You're accent is still dreadful."

Del nodded at them from behind the steam press as they headed to the dressing room, sending steam into the air as he hit the press twice.

Both men stepped inside, turning the coat hook and pausing as the heavy door to the agents entrance silently swung open, and they stepped into the reception area.

Wanda greeted them from behind her desk, pinning Napoleon's yellow agents badge on, and as usual, simply handing Illya his.

"I am really going to develop a complex," the Russian muttered to himself as he pinned it on his lapel.

"So how's your day going so far?" Wanda greeted them.

"Routine Wanda dear, just routine," Napoleon smiled. "We still on for dinner tomorrow night?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," she called to them as they passed through the secondary entrance.

"You are incorrigible, you know that," Illya commented.

"Pas encore_ but of course," Napoleon gave him a wry smile, not being unable to resist speaking French again.

Kuryakin clicked his tongue, along with the obligatory rolling of the eyes...


End file.
